Iron Fist, Iron Clad, Reign Of Steel
by TacticianZephine
Summary: Iacon and Praxus have become a conjoined totalitarian state, under a militaristic dictatorship of... an Autobot? Can twelve 'bots return their territory to its democratic state?
1. Hell March

**Okay, um, so I was listening to music (before you go ANY FURTHER, you are to go to YouTube and find "C&C Hell March 2 First to Last Remix and play it as you begin to read). ****This is yet another AU, it doesn't fit into Savage or Normal timelines.**

**R&R. Enjoy.**

* * *

_Left. Right_. _Left. Right_. _Left. Right_. _Left. Right_. _Left. Right_. _Left. Right_.  
_Left. Right_. _Left. Right_. _Left. Right_. _Left. Right_. _Left. Right_. _Left. Right_.

He stood at the window, watching the soldiers as they marched across the courtyard, back toward the barracks. They moved in unison, one organism, as their field commander called out orders. They would shift their weapons from one shoulder to the other upon command, albiet with the occasional lag or slacking.

Such imperfections. There was no reason for this.

"Posture needs work... Back left of the center is slacking in proper weapon handling... I'm very disappointed in their presentation, half the intimidation factor is appearance. Have they no self-respect? Not to mention, they'd likely drop their weapons in battle before they could get the safeties off. I'll need to have a word with Ironhide about this."

He turned from the window and returned to his desk, taking a seat and awakening his many touch-screens with a tap to the center one. "Wake up, Daddy's home," he smirked, ghosting his fingertips across the screens. "Now... let me see..." He tapped one of the screens, sliding it to the center and expanding it by pulling the corners in opposite diagonals. "Computer, call."

_**Please state the name of the party you wish to contact**_.

"Field Commander Ironhide."

_**Calling Field Commander Ironhide**_.

_:Mnhm, 'lo?:_

"Ironhide. We need to talk."

_:Sir! Wha' d'yeh need?:_

"I'd like to speak to you regarding the poor presentation of the soldiers. I've never seen such terrible slouches, and such horrific handling of weaponry. I've told you time and time again, Ironhide, half of the intimidation factor-"

_:'S appearance, I know, sir, but yeh can' expec' 'em ta be all tha' energetic aft' yeh've had 'em marchin' fer megacycles-:_

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but... it sounds as if you were arguing with me, Ironhide. Or worse still, questioning my orders. Now, that can't possibly be so, can it?"

_:... No sir. 'Course no'. I'll ge' righ' on i' 'n trainin' t'marra_._:_

"See that you do, Ironhide. As you were."

_:Thank yeh, sir.:_

He ended the call, glancing at the time, then turning his audios toward the intercom speaker as a voice droned out of it. _"All cadets should now be in the barracks for evening call."_

He looked back to his desk, and heard the doors to his chamber open and close, and the delicate sound of a female's footsteps clicked across the floor to him.

He didn't turn to her. "You're. Late."

"And I _apologize_, but... you know how those _mean_ old guards at the front gate are."

"That doesn't excuse you. I expect you here on time."

She rested her hands on his shoulders, massaging the struts with the balls of her thumbs. "Oh now, come, relax."

"You know I can't relax when my routine has been interrupted. You were late, female." He pushed her off, then turned around as he heard her hit the floor. She whimpered, looking up at him from the tile. He pulled her up by the wrist, and possessively against himself. "You won't do it again."

"No... no, never."

"Never what."

"Never, _sir_."

He adjusted his grip on her wrists. "Tell me who you belong to. And you know what I want to hear." He tightened his grip.

She gasped, looking up at him. "I belong to you, Prowl."

* * *

**Betcha didn't see that one coming, did you? Yes, this female took forever to develop. It's so hard to get concubines right -sigh- I sincerely disapprove of my decision here. I think it was more just me giving him a prostitute to abuse.**


	2. Rebel Leader

**Now you get an explanation. Review, please, I need to know if it's good. I thrive on feedback.**

* * *

Ironhide sighed a little, looking over his platoon. They'd been at it since dawn, marching, presenting arms, trying to perfect their "presentation". Prowl demanded perfection. He'd _always_ demanded perfection. He had come into power a millennium or two ago, so most of these soldiers, in Ironhide's platoon specifically, didn't remember a time when things were any different.

Half of the city council had been assassinated, and elections could not be held fast enough to replace the staff. He'd been the Head of Police, and the only one able to keep calm long enough to stomp out the riots and lead the city though the time of crisis at the outbreak of the war.

He'd remained in power to get the city back in order... then decided he liked it too much to leave it. He'd reclaimed Praxus from the Decepticons, but instead of freeing the civillians from one dictator, he'd forced them into the regime of another. Possibly even a worse one.

It was Pit-on-Cybertron. Corruption everywhere, especially in the power-holding class.

It was said that His Highness (although that wasn't his official title, that was just what Ironhide called him) had a couple of young females on the side. Courtesans. Ironhide had only ever seen one female leaving or entering the compound, and that had been four different times. He doubted that: he'd known _of_ Prowl before all of this had occurred, and he knew him as a very anti-social mech. But, then, femmes like that were often attracted to mechs in power.

The streets were patrolled by a secret military police force that not only enforced laws, but a curfew. Propoganda posters were plastered wherever convienient, and video loops played from every screen in the city of the Mighty Leader. This was like something out of a bad dystopia novel, except real.

Dystopia novel. Didn't those novels always have a resistence of some kind?

Ironhide clicked his digits and smirked a bit. He knew _exactly_ what could be done about Prowl. But, he needed to find a strong supporting team that he could trust. But who to begin with?

A fellow Trainer, Jazz, strolled by. "'Ey, Ironhide," he greeted. "Great weather, huh?"

"Gorgeous." Perfect. It was as if the universe wanted him to go through with this. "Lis'n up. Ye off t'night?"

"Yeah? Why?"

"We goin' ou'. The Vix'n all righ'?"

"... Sure. Should I bring a friend?"

"Nah. 'M fixin' t' brin' a few oth'rs wi' us. Jus' meet by th' ga'e 'roun' twen'y-one-'undr'd megacy'les."

***  
While many places of gathering had been closed down by law, a select few had been selected to remain open, Maccadams' Old Oil House, on the North Side of the Capital, and exactly twenty-one "clubs" (mainly brothels) in the Red Light Quarter being a select few. The Vixen was the worst kind of cabaret, not the kind where the performance is bad, but the kind where nearly every dancer is a prostitute.

Ironhide, Jazz, Ironhide's mate Chromia met up at the gate, looking around. "Is anyone else coming?" Chromia inquired.

"Think so, I tol' a couple oth'rs, but..."

Cliffjumper and Bumblebee: soldiers, Tracks and Hound: trainer apprentices, Dion, Ultra Magnus and Orion Pax: three maintanence workers, and twin females Arcee: a maid and Ariel: a nurse, sauntered over, looking around.

"Hey!" Jazz greeted, waving. "This evr'ybody?"

"Yep. Le's ge' a move on."

The guards at the gates stopped them, looking over the large group. "Hold up. Where d'you think you're all going?"

"We've all got the night off, so we decided to go out together," Dion explained.

"Names and positions?" one guard, a mech called Huffer, droned, taking out a tablet and hitting "record" to get all of the names as they were said.

"Ir'nhide, Train'r."

"Jazz. Trainer."

"Dion, Firing Range Maintanence."

"Orion Pax, Barrack Maintanence."

"Ultra Magnus, Courtyard Maintanence."

"Hound, Trainer's Apprentice."

"Tracks, Trainer's Apprentice."

"Bumblebee, Senior Cadet."

"Cliffjumper, Junior Cadet."

"Chromia, Nurse."

"Ariel, Nurse."

"Arcee, Maid."

Huffer and his companions, Gears and Sentinel, looked over their tablets, checking the group over, and finally nodded. "All right, go on. You will be subject to search for banned material upon return, do you understand?"

"Yea, yea, we go' it," Ironhide snapped, leading the group out.

Huffer waited until the last of them was out of sight before hitting "call" on his tablet.

_:You know I'm not to be disturbed at this time.:_

"I know, Sir, but I thought you needed to be aware... a large group has just gone out to spend their night off, and I found it a little suspicious."

_:I'm well aware of what has just happened at the South Entrance, Huffer. I do not suspect them of anything.:_

"Yes, Sir."


	3. Touch Me

**Bad chapter. Very bad chapter. I'm sorry. That song there is from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Sorry.**

* * *

The music was blaring, and the group sat down in a corner booth. On the stage, there was some sort of risque type of floor show occurring involving a black-painted female singer with a blue ponytail blade and a gold mech, but it was ignored but for the singer's wailing.

_"And that is just one small fraction  
Of the main attraction  
You need a friendly hand-oh!-and I need action!_

_"Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me!  
I want to be dirty!  
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me!  
Creature of the night!"_

Ironhide sipped his drink. "Righ'. Ye all know why yer here, righ'?"

Everyone nodded.

"Righ'. No', we've go' t' think o' a way t' get rid o' Prowl. Brin' dem'cr'cy back t' Iacon-Prax's. Maybe ev'n s'p'ra' 'em, bu' one thin' a' a time."

"Well, blackmail's always a good place to start," Arcee suggested.

"The only 'bot could have blackmail material for Prowl is his Head of Intel," Jazz nodded.

"Jazz, no one ever sees the Head of Intel. I think it's Red Alert, but I'm not sure," Dion nodded.

"Yeah."

"Well, we c'n fix 'at." Ironhide looked around at them as the singer's voice cut out. "We'll sneak int'a Prowl's chamb'rs an' check 'is p'rs'nn'l f'les."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Yeah. And I know just how to do it!" Arcee grinned. "First, you have to get past his guards, and then-"


	4. Murphy's Law

**Um, this is short too, but I PROMISE you, I'll get some meat on the next chapter, and it'll be better, because I like writing what I plan to do in the next chapter. I promise, it'll get better! I promiiiiiise! T-T**

**Mraaaah. Review this. Rrrrraaaaaaahhhhh.**

* * *

"All right, I copied this map from Azura's cleaning schedules. Prowl could be in any of these rooms. Pit, he could even be in the office, where the computer is," Arcee nodded. "He's got this entire tower to himself. The main entrance is from this floor to the office, upstairs is his library and study, and above that, in the belfry, is his recharging quarters. Below the office is the dining area and refectory. I think he has a basement, for storage, but no one is ever down there. The maids aren't allowed to. I almost went down there to clean once, and Azura saw me and _freaked_ out. Nearly took my arm off."

"Wow... what guards are on duty right now? Please tell me it's Nightbeat, he can't call for backup," Cliffjumper pleaded.

"No, I'm afraid it's Smokescreen and Bluestreak. Streetwise and Nightbeat don't come on until later."

"Primus... well, at least it's not Nightbeat's psycho sister. All right, let's get it on!" Jazz smirked.

**  
"So far so good... all right, there's no one coming. I've nearly hacked into the computer."

"Oh, hurry, Cliff," Arcee simpered. "I don't like it. This shouldn't be going this well."

**  
Ironhide, Orion, Chromia, Ariel, Dion, and Ultra Magnus were standing guard outside, when their six fellows ran out of the building, shouting loudly.

"WE'VE BEEN SPOTTED! THEY'VE SEEN US! RUN!"

They looked back for a split nanoklik before they realized what their comrades were running from.

Streetwise, Smokescreen, Bluestreak, Blurr, Blades and Nightbeat were running after them at top speed. The six outdoor-stationed "freedom fighters" decided that it was probably a good time to run.

They took off, and no one looked back. Not until...

"AHHH! GUYS, HELP! THEY'VE GOT ME!"

It was Cliffjumper. He'd been captured by Blades and Blurr, who had tackled him. Their comrades were sprinting past that pile of body toward Ironhide's group.

"WE HAVE TO HELP CLIFF!" Arcee screamed.

"WE CAN'T! LEAVE HIM, HE CAN HANDLE HIMSELF!" Jazz shouted back.

"NO!"

"ARCEE!" Ariel screamed, dragging her away.

"CLIFF!"


	5. Murderers and Bullies

**Oops. Chapter Five isn't better. Since Toaster (my computer/partner-in-crime) no longer works on battery power (oops), and must run on A/C, um, he occasionally shuts off when the cord loosens, so I liked where Chapter Five was cut off when that happened. ****Chapter Six will be much better, and I didn't want to overwhelm you with new characters and what I have planned, and it's gonna be awesome.**

**Keep the love coming, guys, I really appreciate it. You will not be disappointed.**

* * *

Cliffjumper looked up from his holding cell as the door to the room opened. Six mechs marched in, weapons drawn.

Smokescreen and Bluestreak, a pair of twins with doorwings. They were basically the same mech with inverted color schemes. They were possibly the most dim-witted mechs in the territory. Smokescreen was a black-painted mech with gray detailing, Bluestreak gray with black. Bluestreak was a former cop. Streetwise, another former cop, was a white-colored mech with red detailing. Blurr, a light blue mech. Blades, a white hovercopter mech. Nightbeat was was painted a very dark purple with fine black detail, and mute. Completely mute. His vocal system was said to have never existed, but some weren't so certain.

They were Prowl's personal army of mindless, killer drones. A tiny squadron of murderers and bullies. And here came their general.

Nightbird.

Younger sister to Nightbeat, and painted completely black, she was without question the most psychotic and cold-fluided killer of the bunch, possibly in the entire Autobot populace. The only one with a mind of her own. She was Prowl's Head of Security. Her optics were never seen, thought, like her brother's vocal system, to never have existed, but her hawkeye vision was proof that this was likely a myth. Her optics were covered, however, by a crimson visor that, coincidentally, was shaped exactly like the chevron that appeared on Prowl's forehead in all of his videoloops. She was ruthless, and it was said she experienced overload while causing others pain, though this was likely a rumor.

Cliffjumper really didn't want to find out.

"Well, well, well, well, well. What do we have here?" she purred darkly, her visor glinting wickedly in the dimness of the room.

"A bunch of 'bots tried to break into the Boss's quarters, Miss, this is the only one we-"

"Shut _up_, Smokescreen." She crossed the room, her footfalls sounding much heavier than they were, and stopped in front of Cliffjumper's cell. "I _know_ that it was captured when an infiltration went awry. Now, it has one chance to tell me how many others there are."

When the red mech remained silent, she got to one knee and turned up the intensity of her glare, her gaze burning a hole in Cliffjumper's very Spark. "I _said_, it has _one_ chance to tell me _how many others_ there are in its little group of 'freedom fighters'."

Upon not recieving an answer this time, she got angry, reaching through the bars to grab him around the throatal plating with one of her (relatively) small, clawed hands. "So help me, if I must repeat myself one more time-"

Cliffjumper spat in her faceplates.

The other mechs reared up, drawing weapons, but Nightbird waved them off, wiping the fluid off.

"Well, if _that_ is how it wants to play, then so be it. Bring it downstairs."


	6. Whips and Chains

**So, I promised a REAL chapter for Chapter Six. And here it is.**

**Just a note, this was omitted from her Chapter Five description, but, ah, if you look at Anne Hathaway's heels in The Dark Knight Rises, they're serrated, and it's cool, so I borrowed the idea for Nightbird's feet. I think of her as looking like robot Catwoman, but acting like the Repo Man. So, yeah.**

**And oh, this might be a little scary. I expect reactions, people... at least, I'd like them... please?**

* * *

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"

The electrowhip cracked against Cliffjumper's back, eliciting more screams from the red mech as it dug a seventeenth gouge into his plating. He was shackled to the floor by his wrists, ankles and neck, forced to his knees by the shortness of the chains, his body twisted so that his back had no choice but to arch toward his tormentor like an animal.

Bluestreak and Streetwise had left five strikes ago, Smokescreen had left two strikes before them, and Blurr and Blades had wandered off as soon as the whipping had begun. Nightbeat was the last to leave, vanishing out the door almost as soon as Nightbird brought the whip up for the eighteenth lash.

But it didn't come.

Instead, she hooked the whip back into its compartment on her hip. Cliffjumper watched as the feet of his punisher walked around to stand in front of his face, with their bladed heels slowly shown off by the almost feline gait and the agonizingly slow turn when she reached her destination. She lowered her body in a predatory crouch, and brought her faceplates down to his level.

"Are you ready to talk?" she asked with mocking, false kindness. "Because all you have to do is give up the information I want, and I can let you go. You can walk up those stairs and back to the barracks, and pretend that none of this ever happened."

"I'll... never... talk..." he snarled at her. "I won't... betray... them."

She snarled, standing, and hit the "release" on the shackles. Cliffjumper sprang up, making a beeline for the door. He was halted, however, by the fact that Nightbird tangled their ankles to trip him up and pinning him to the floor with her foot. She sighed. "They always run. That door is locked from the outside, not even I can get out now, not until I call for it."

Cliffjumper coughed a laugh. "You can't beat me in a fair fight."

She grabbed his ankles, and he heard her messing about with more chain. She wound the chain around his ankles, and the pressure from her foot on his back was alleviated when she crossed the room. He heard her hit another button, and he found himself dragged rapidly upward, so he was now hanging upside down.

"Do you know why I take such pride in my work?" she asked nonchalantly, drawing her whip again. "Because I _know_ that, as a sadomasochist, I am the perfect choice. I _understand_ pain, I _embrace_ agony, and, above all, I know how to do it _right_."

She hit a switch on the stock of the whip, and the fall unbraided into many small, barbed tails. She swung it once, letting Cliffjumper hear the crack.

"In fact, everything I have done so far to you, and everything I plan to do, is basically an average night for me. Except, I happen to be in your position, rather than in my Master's."

She cracked the whip through the air, every tendril on the fall striking Cliffjumper's side. He stifled his scream, looking at her as she circled him.

"... your master?" he forced himself to ask, hoping to distract her.

She ignored that, catching his chest plating now with the whip. "Pain is an art. Very few understand this, and even fewer have ever truly mastered it. Many have no idea how much practice and precision it takes. Even the slightest flick..."

She flicked her wrist, the tails coming dangerously close to his pelvic plating.

"... can cause not only pain, but fear of pain. The fear of the _possibility_ of pain. This is actually quite difficult to do."

"That's a lie," Cliffjumper choked suddenly. "Everyone fears pain."

"No. Everyone recoils at the thought, initially, of pain, and the possibility of pain. But some, some come to embrace it. To love it, even."

She brought the whip down hard across his back.

"But the rest of them, they cringe at the mere thought that something can cause them pain. And I _love_ to cause pain, _almost_ as much as I love to recieve it."

She coiled the whip back up, but didn't put it away. She merely circled him again, her gait predatory, her heels catching the light, the double-sided, serrated, silver blades flashing.

"I am something of an artist, you know. Everyone needs a hobby. It is quite relaxing. That is why I am so skilled at what I do."

She unwound the whip, and flicked it a few times to make certain the tails weren't twisted together.

"I just love to watch them thrash, and writhe. Hear them scream, and cry, and beg for mercy that I am not at all interested..."

Another flick of her wrist, and this time, one of the tails striking his face, cracking his optic.

"... in giving."

**  
Several megacycles later, Blades's beeped.

"Yeah?"

_:Let me out, and bring it back to its cell.:_

Blades unlocked the door. Nightbird stalked out, her heels glinting purple with mech fluid.

"Did you get anything from him, Miss?" he dared to ask.

"No. I look forward to executing it in the morning."


	7. Kangaroo

**Hey, guys! So, this is what it feels like to be seven chapters in and not even close to the ending you've already planned. Huh. It's nice.**

**Ya'll might've noticed that I've gone back and named the chapters. The name of this one, "Kangaroo", is a reference to the term "kangaroo court". A kangaroo court is "a mock court in which the principles of law and justice are disregarded or perverted". I got that definition off of wikitionary or however it's spelled.**

**I'd just like to put in an endorsement here, ah, Ember has made a cameo in a story by a faithful reader/reviewer. She's been mentioned in T-Reilani's fic "Broken", so I am obligated to suggest you check it out. Especially because I feel awful for doing this after T-Reilani's last review. Oops. Sorry, chiquita.**

**In other news, I've got a poll up there on my profile now, it's part of my work on my Prowl costume for NYCC, so I'd appreciate as much input as possible on that. And any input you have on the fic, please kindly leave in a review ;)**

* * *

Skreeeeeeeeee.

_Attention, all personnel!_ the loudspeaker chirped._ This is your wakeup call!_ _Rise and whine!_

Ironhide looked up from his morning news tablet as the sound of Chromia's sander cut out.

_You are in for a little treat. A rebel group has been discovered among your ranks, and one member has been captured and questioned. He is due to be executed this morning, and audience is mandatory. That is all_.

"Cliff..." Ironhide sighed.

**  
Cliffjumper stood on the platform, chained down by his wrist and ankles. He looked over the crowd of soldiers and staff, his face expressionless and looking a little worse for the wear for his time spent in holding.

Speaking of time spent in holding, Ironhide spotted nine of Prowl's puppets on the stage, and two of his fellow rebels. Bluestreak and Smokescreen were lined up behind Cliffjumper, with Blades, Blurr, and Streetwise behind them and Nightbeat in front of them. Nightbird stood beside Crosshairs and a small block. Jazz and Hound stood on either side of Armorhide, who stood at a small podium on the platform.

"Cliffjumper," Armorhide began. "You stand convicted of treason, of conspiring to committ treason, and of obstruction of justice. Is this statement correct?"

"Yes."

"You were found guilty and sentenced by an impartial jury of seven. Is this statement correct?"

"Yes."

"Before you are executed, I charge you to speak out the names of your fellow conspiritors. If you choose to do so, your execution will be stayed, and you will be re-tried. Do you wish to reveal the identities of your fellow traitors and crimminals?"

"No."

"This jury sentenced you to execution by your choice of the following methods: Firing Squad, decapitation, dismemberment, and lethal injection. Is this statement correct?"

"Yes."

"You startled the jury by choosing a combination of the first two. Is this statement correct?"

"Yes. I'm going out with a bang."

"I ask you a second time. Do you wish to reveal the identities of your fellow traitors and crimminals?"

"No."

_:Ironhide, do something!:_ Arcee frantically over a nonverbal and coded frequency.

_:I can' do anythin',:_ he replied. _:We'd all be kill'd on th' spot.:_

"I now charge Cliffjumper's fellow crimminals, whoever you are, to step forward and reveal yourselves. If you do so, you will be taken into custody and tried, and Cliffjumper's execution will be stayed."

_:No one move,:_ Jazz ordered over the secret frequency. _:They won't take you in.:_

_:We know, Jazz,:_ Orion replied.

"If no one wishes to step forward, Cliffjumper will now be fired upon by a squad of four while a fifth performs the decapitation."

No one moved. Hound, Bluestreak, Nightbeat, and Blurr stepped forward, blasters drawn, while Nightbird climbed up onto the block and gripped Crosshairs's axe.

"Cliffjumper, you will recieve three shots from each rifle, while Nightbird simultaneously performs the decapitation. If you continue to function once this process is complete, your fellow Autobots will disperse, and you will be left to die alone. Do you understand the process as I have explained it to you?"

"Yes."

"Firing Squad ready! Fire one!"

Four shots rang out, hitting him in the torso plating. Nightbird raised the axe.

"Fire two!"

Four more, and Nightbird swung.

"Fire three!"

At the same time Cliffjumper shouted, "_Avvi raentseics_," a praise to the resistance from his native Icon.

The blade of the axe and the final four rounds connected roughly at the same time. Cliffjumper's head hit the platform, and Ironhide felt his fluids boil, especially when he noticed the attention he was recieving from one of the executioners.

Nightbird was grinning sickly at him, her face splattered with Cliffjumper's vital fluids.

Almost as if she knew.


	8. Whoooooooop

**I'm sorry about this chapter. It got bullsh*tted so badly. I'm so sorry. Please tolerate my bullsh*t right now. The big climactic scene is coming up, and it'll be awesome, and please just tolerate me...**

**Quite literally, the way Jazz says "no, frag you!" is the most blatant reference to Holy Musical Batman (Sorry, can't stylize) ever. Sorry. **

* * *

Several quartexes passed, and the capture and subsequent executions of Bumblebee, Tracks, Ultra Magnus, Dion and Arcee had driven the rebels underground. Literally.

They'd located a bunker beneath a supply closet that was likely there when the base was built, and were staking it out in there.

"Look, why don't we just give ourselves up?" Ariel sighed. "We can't possibly win."

"Yes we can!" Jazz snapped, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Chromia and Ironhide. "I know we can."

"Ariel's right, Jazz," Hound sighed. "There's no way."

Orion, who'd been mostly silent since the executions of Magnus and Dion, his younger brothers, lifted his head. "Please don't argue."

"Orion, you said it yours-"

"Lay off him, Jazz."

"You lay off me, Ariel."

"Shut up."

"No you shut up."

"Frag you."

"NOFRAGYOU!" Jazz shouted, as if it was all one word.

Ironhide and Chromia padded out, glaring at all of them. "Wha's all th' noise?" Ironhide demanded.

"She-"

"N'v'r min'. I go' a pl'n."

"What?"

**  
"You're fragging crazy," Jazz confirmed. "You have lost it."

"No, don't you see?" Ariel said, understanding. "We've got to get into the Intelligence Wing. It's our only chance."

"But, who'll do it?"

"I will," Hound said quickly. "I'll do it."

"It's suicide!"

"Shut up Jazz. He's doing it."

***  
"All right. Hound, can you hear me?"

_:Yeah, I'm heading in now. Everything seems clear... I don't see any... what... oh Primus! Primus, no! No! NO!:_

The transmission cut out suddenly, and Ariel desperately tried to get it back. "Frag... frag, we've lost him."

Ironhide clenched his fists, and stood up slowly. He stormed out of the bunker.

"Where's he going?!" Jazz yelped.

"Ironhide, you'll be killed out there!" Orion shouted.

The remaining four bolted after him.

**  
They looked around, not finding him anywhere.

"Wha're we goin' t' do?!" Chromia wailed.

"I don't kn-"

_Whoooooooop. Whoooooooop. Whoooooooop. Whoooooooop. Whoooooooop_.

"What the fr..."

"Fire alarm."

"We've gotta get out!"

"We'll get killed!"

"I'M NOT BURNING TO DEATH!"


	9. Won't I?

**... Shut up, it was pre-written! -sulks in corner-**

* * *

They found Ironhide outside, and realized that it had been he who tripped the alarm. The personnel looked worriedly around the courtyard for a superior to tell them what to do, and they panicked when they didn't see one.

Ironhide took his chance. He, Jazz, Chromia, Orion, and Ariel got up onto the raised platform in the center of the courtyard.

"AUT'A'BOTS!" Ironhide shouted. Everyone quieted and looked at him, stunned.

"I know ye're gonna be shocked 'bou' wha' I 'ave t' tell ye, bu' ye need t' 'ear i'." He pointed up to Prowl's window. ""Yer idol up 'ere? Not'in' bu' a murd'rer!"

Everyone hushed, some even pointed their weapons at Ironhide. One soldier, who'd never been quite right to begin with, pointed a shaking finger at him.

"BLASPHEMY!" he screamed. "HE WHO SPEAKS ILL OF OUR BELOVED AND FEARLESS LEADER SPEAKS ILL OF PRIMUS HIMSELF!"

"Bite yer lyin' glossa!" Chromia yelled.

"HE WHO BLASPHEMES SHALL BE CONDEMNED TO DEATH AND SPEND THE REST OF TIME IN THE DEEPEST CHAMBER OF THE PIT ITSELF!"

"I'm a Primus-fearin' mech, an' none o' ye c'n ev'r say oth'rwise," Ironhide growled, then looked again at the assembled cadets. "Yer 'belov'd an' fearl'ss lead'r' ain' noth'n' bu' a cow'rd. An' par'noi' t' boot. Kills ev'ryone says someth'n' 'gains' 'im, don' 'e? Cy'le 'e thinks ye've star'ed thinkin' fer yersel's, bang! Someb'dy's dea'."

"Ironhide's right!" Orion Pax yelled. Everyone looked up at him. He was always so quiet in large crowds. "Prowl's had seven 'bots killed already for what we're trying to do. How many more have to die?"

"An' has it no' occurred to anyone..." Chromia piped up. "That Prowl ne'er comes outta his chambers? How many o' ye've seen Prowl? I mean the real one."

A few of the older mechs had raised their hands.

"In the pas' millenium?"

Nobody raised any hands, and the hands that were up went down.

"Well. Le's 'ear 'is side o' the story!" Chromia yelled toward the window. "'At is, 'f 'e's mech enough t' face us!"

Ariel turned to the window beside her friend. "Prowl, we challenge you to come defend yourself!" she yelled.

**  
"Insolence... insubordination... betrayal. Everything I've feared made manifest."

Prowl had heard every word from his chambers, and banished the images of Ironhide on the podium from his security feeds. He stood still for a moment, gripping the edge of his desk, before he knocked several tablets to the floor with a broad sweep of his left arm.

"_Do they have any idea of just __**who**__ they happen to be dealing with_?!" he roared.

"Oh, they _do_, Sir," his Head of Intelligence answered.

"... I must accept his challenge."

"Wha... You must not give that lunatic what he wants!" Ember cried from where she'd been perched on a small filing cabinet. "You simply-"

"I need Nightbird. And Nightbeat." He barely looked over his shoulder when he barked the next order. "Get on it!"

**  
The rebels looked at one another, and then around at the assembled soldiers. "See? Won' ev'n show 'is facepla'es wh'n i' comes righ' dow' t' i'!" Ironhide yelled.

"Oh, won't I, Ironhide?"

* * *

**And, Ember makes her first appearance since Chapter One! See, T'Reilani, she's still here.**


	10. Now

**Well, angelfaces, this is the last actual story chapter! I hear your looks of scorn, but don't worry, all will be revealed. I'm sorry these last three chapters had to be such a one-two pu-RIGHT UPPERCUT!, but this and Chapter Nine were already written.**

**I might mention, in the third paragraph, an OC that does not belong to me speaks. Her name is Reilla, and she belongs to T'Reilani. I'd go check out her stories, particularly "Broken", which, if you remember a little while back, Ember appeared in by mention.**

* * *

Everyone gasped, and whirled to face Prowl's window. The leader himself was standing on his balcony, with Nightbird on his left side and Nightbeat on his right. He was a predominantly white mech, with some black and gray detailing, especially on the wings protruding from his back. His optics were a chilling gold, like a feline.

Ironhide was silent, then yelled up. "So, ye d'ci' t' show yer facepla'es, ye cow'rd?"

"Don't you dare call him a coward!" one of the other nurses yelled from her place with the Medical staff.

"Save it, Reilla," Prowl said calmly, his optics never moving from Ironhide. He was being made audible by a microphone modification on a tablet he was holding. "He's not worth the argument. Ironhide, I must say, I'm not surprised. You haven't been as careful as you think you have. Your first mistake-"

The sound of a rifle being fired interrupted him as Jazz sent a plasma round right toward his chestplating. Nightbird caught the slug in her hand, sneering at Jazz.

"As I was saying. Your first mistake was to hold the first little 'gatherings' of your little group at The Vixen, where my _faithful_ Heads of Intelligence and Security are always on high alert for questionable behavior. And are even more careful to listen in when they are informed of an exceedingly large group of Autobots who have just left Base on suspicious pretenses."

"How c'd ye be sure we'd be a' Th' Vix'n?" Ironhide said after a moment.

"You really oughtn't speak of your after-work plans whilst standing beside a security camera, Ironhide, then perhaps this might have been more of a surprise to me, perhaps taken me longer to think of what to do. Hound acting as a double agent, however, did help things a little."

"Hound?"

Jazz turned toward a cluster of soldiers, spotting Hound. "YOU SON OF A-!"

"SILENCE!" Nightbird screeched down, making Jazz cover his audios and wince.

"At any rate," Prowl continued smoothly. "My own mistake was not dealing with you sooner. Perhaps you and your clan might've been spared the pain of losing your friends, friends who were executed for _your_ crime, Ironhide."

Ironhide growled.

"Of course, it's much more fair to say that it was at Nightbird's suggestion that I permit you your first transgression, while I myself hoped that it would result in your surrender, and that Cliffjumper's execution had been enough to discourage you. After all, I trust the foresight of my Head of Security. I had no idea it'd make you fight harder."

Ironhide suddenly had an idea. "Ye know wha' I wan', Prowl. Ye willin' t' figh' me t' keep yer pow'r?"

Everyone in the crowd gasped. Prowl simply crossed his arms. "You're challenging me to a duel, Ironhide? How quaint."

"'S th' only fair way, i'nt i'?"

"I suppose, but you understand, being a former Law Enforcer has its drawbacks. You see, I've a slight limp in my left leg, which would give you an unfair advantage over me, you being in peak physical condition... for your age. If you'd like to talk fair, I'd be glad to send a fighter in my place."

"Ironhide, don' take th' bai'," Chromia whispered fearfully.

"Why no'?"

"Loo' a' Nigh'bir's facepla'es. Prowl'd sen' 'er."

Ironhide nodded, then looked back at Prowl. "All righ' I won' make ye figh' me."

"A very wise decision, Ironhide, now, you've wasted quite enough of my time, and the time of your fellow Autobots. I will give you a choice. You can be executed privately, at a later date, or here. Now."

* * *

**I'll just leave this here...**


	11. Heliotrope

**-looks at the end of the last chapter- I'm sorry, that was mean. So, I wrote you an epilogue.**

* * *

Prowl had watched the executions of Ariel, Chromia, Orion, Jazz, and Ironhide from his window. He hadn't even shuttered an optic when the bodies had hit the ground.

A short time after they'd been removed, there was a quiet knock on his door. He called for her to enter, knowing full well who it was. She had been very careful about simply walking into his chambers after he'd _had words_ with her about the attitude he'd recieved the last time she'd done it. She hadn't disobeyed or talked back since.

Nightbird walked in, still splattered fluids from the executions: she'd been splashed when the mechs had been shot, and there was always a magnificent spray of fluid from the neck when a Cybertronian was beheaded, as the femmes were.

He turned to her, and noted that she was holding something behind her back. "What are you hiding?"

With all the tact of a youngling presenting their creator with a drawing, Nightbird offered up the object to him, and Prowl couldn't help but chuckle as he took it from her and looked it over, turning it in his hands. "Why, you sneaky little meta-minx."

She'd "rescued" Ironhide's head, and had even cleaned it up for him.

He patted Nightbird's head, and then placed Ironhide's on a shelf, as if it had never been part of a living thing. "I'll have to find it a proper display. It'd look fantastic in the study, don't you think?"

He rewarded her with a small smile, then wiped a bit of fluid from her face with his thumb. "I don't think I've seen you this proud of yourself for an execution in a long while, and quite rightly so. You've done so well handling this messy business."

He plucked her gore-streaked visor from her face, and set it aside on the table before removing her extra kibble himself and putting it aside. She smiled proudly. When he'd finished removing her kibble, Prowl pulled her possessively to himself by the waist, then walked them both to the window. "I believe I can safely say that we won't have another problem like this for quite a while."

"The soldiers _worship_ and _adore_ you..."

They watched out the window as part of the army marched across the courtyard, moving out to take care of a minor Decepticon attack on a Praxian village called Helix. Her heliotrope optics glinted in the darkness as she looked up at him.

"... _almost_ as much as _I_ do."

* * *

**What's this? Another end note? Yes :)**

**So, everyone, thank you for bearing with me here. It's a weird AU, and I realize there are some questions about the society/Prowl's rise to power/the Decepticons, et cetera.**

**Well, angelfaces, fear not. There is a prequel or two in the works right now. So, if you would, kindly leave any questions left unanswered in the reviews, and I'll take them into consideration when I start work on the prequel.**

**Thank you all, just so much.**


End file.
